Sermon: Be salty, encouraging Christians (Sept. 30, 2012)

(Note: I didn't actually preach this today. I stayed home, while a couple laypeople read it for me! What a blessing to have congregations so concerned about my health that they insist I stay home and they cover Sunday morning!)

Pentecost 18B

Sept. 30, 2012 (adapt. from Sept. 27, 2009)

Mark 9:38-50

Grace to you in peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

            Ok, be honest: how many of you cringed a bit when you heard the Gospel lesson just now? How many of you choked just a little bit when you said, “Praise to you, O Christ,” after a reading about maiming yourself and burning in hell? I know I did when I first read it. Passages like these are not the easiest to find some good news to preach, that’s for sure.

         But maybe that’s a good thing – passages like these also require extra love and care to read. They require more intentional reflection and meditation, more faith-filled reading and re-reading… and no one comes out of such deep reflection on the Word worse off for the effort!

         The first thing we need to do is to gain a deeper understanding of some of the shocking pieces that may overshadow the point of Jesus’ words. It helps to look at the passage as a sort of a three-part essay. The first part is this bit about the disciples trying to stop a man who was acting in Jesus’ name but not following them. Jesus answers, “Whoever is not against us is for us.” That’s his thesis statement. The rest of the passage goes on to show us what it means that, “whoever is not against us is for us.”

         The bulk of Jesus’ sermon – the part that is particularly difficult to digest – is this middle part, that shows us what “against us” might look like. He does this using some admittedly shocking language, language that doesn’t at all fit with the image of Jesus we prefer – the one who brings the little children to him, who heals the sick and loves the outsider, who brings peace on earth. This Jesus is, frankly, a little bit scary, and certainly not very likeable. At first read-through, this does not appear to be someone who is forgiving, as we know Jesus to be. This Jesus fits better into our perception of the Old Testament, where an-eye-for-an-eye is the standard for ordering society, for punishing wrong-doers. So where, here, is grace and forgiveness?

         First, let’s break down this seemingly harsh language. As is often the case with biblical interpretation, this is language that makes a lot more sense in the cultural and geographical context in which Jesus is living. Take, for example, “the unquenchable fire” of hell. “Hell” here is not what we usually mean when we think of hell. It is not a physical place, an eternal, fiery underworld where the devil lives. It is not even a spiritual hell that separates us from God for eternity. The word used in Greek here is “Gehenna,” which refers to an actual place, a sort of dump just outside the gates of Jerusalem. This Gehenna is where people threw all their waste – including the bodies of criminals and dead animals – and where there was a constant fire burning to purify the rubbish. Because of the undoubtedly horrid smell and heat of the fire, the word “Gehenna” came to mean something like what we call “hell,” where evil people, criminals, go for the afterlife. But in this context, Jesus is most likely talking about the place itself, located outside Jerusalem, the literal place where criminals go when they die.

         Next let’s try to understand this theologically and practically for our lives. The whole section could be summarized with, “Don’t do anything that causes anyone – yourself or others – to stumble in their life of faith.” His first admonition is regarding causing “one of these little ones” to stumble. These little ones could be anyone, but especially those who are young in their faith. A couple weeks ago, we heard Jesus call Peter “satan,” another word for which is “adversary” – in other words, one who stands between a person and God. Here again Jesus is warning against standing between a person (especially a person young in their faith) and their relationship with God. So essentially he is saying, “Don’t keep someone from faith.” THAT behavior would be “against us,” against God. Rather than be speed bumps or barriers to people’s prayer life, Jesus urges us to help people along the way – perhaps by inviting them to church or to any number of other events we have. Pray for them. Pray with them. Talk about how your relationship with Christ has made your life better. Encourage, don’t block.

The next series of three admonitions Jesus gives us are regarding our own faith life. If your hand, or your foot, or your eye cause you to stumble, he says, cut them off. If your feet carry you somewhere you shouldn’t be, into a situation where you will be tempted to sin, cut it off. If your hand does something hurtful to another – perhaps writing a nasty note, or pushing someone away – cut it off. If your wandering eye starts to watch things that it shouldn’t, cut it out. But, as Jesus often speaks metaphorically, I believe he is speaking metaphorically here as well. His intention is not to cut off the foot, or hand, or eye itself, but rather to cut off the source of sin. Find what is causing you to sin, and cut that out of your life. Perhaps it is laziness – I know I ought to read my Bible more, but it takes so much effort sometimes. Or maybe it is busy-ness – I’d like to join this or that committee, but I just have too much to do. Maybe it’s your own pride – I probably should get out there and help with road clean-up, but I don’t want people to see me in that orange vest picking up trash… what would people think? There are lots of other things that cause us to sin, that get in the way of our relationship with Christ.

And finally, we come to the conclusion of Jesus’ essay – what I remember as a student calling the “so what?” So we know now what not to do, and even what to do instead. So what? In Jesus’ typical cryptic way, he starts talking about salt. “Everyone will be salted with fire. Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.” Salt is not typically one of the first Christian symbols that come to mind, but it is certainly a powerful one. Salt is full of symbolism that describes our Christian life – the life that Jesus is urging us to live, as opposed to a life that causes people to stumble. Just think: what are some ways salt is used?

Salt is a preservative. So Christians who have salt in themselves have preserved the faith of Christ in their own lives – through the waters of baptism, and every time we come to this table to remember Christ’s sacrifice on our behalf, as he died for us on the cross to bring us life and salvation. In fact, historic baptismal rites always included putting salt on the lips of the child being baptized as a symbol of this preservation in faith.

What else? Salt is a purifier, a cleanser. Anyone who wears contact lenses uses saline solution to clean them. Some dental hygienists even recommend using salt water rather than Listerine! So, as “salty Christians,” we have been cleaned of our sins, purified. Similarly, we can be purifiers of the tainted world around us – by serving others in Christ’s name, and by helping them along in their faith journey rather than causing them to stumble.

Another use of salt: it heals. As soon as you start to get that sore throat, out comes the salt water and the gargling begins. So we are called, as salt of the earth Christians, to heal the world, to pick up those who stumble, to bring solace to a world in pain by sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Perhaps the most common use for salt is as a seasoning – just a little bit can bring out the best flavors in a meal, just as exposure to the gospel can bring out the best in life.

Salt is enduring. Jesus talks about salt that has lost its saltiness, but of course that cannot happen – salt cannot loose its saltiness unless its chemical make up in changed, in which case it is no longer salt. So when we have salt in ourselves, we bear the strength and endurance of Christ.

Finally, salt produces thirst – a thirst for God’s Word, a thirst for a relationship with God, a thirst for the righteousness of God.

So after all that, what can we make of Jesus’ original thesis: “whoever is not against us is for us.” Well, these are the ways that we are and act “for Jesus” – by practicing these characteristics of salt, by having salt in ourselves. By not causing yourself or others to stumble, but rather, by living a life that preserves the faith of Christ in your own life, that purifies your own actions and the actions of the world around you, that heals the effects of sin on the world, that brings solace to the downhearted, that brings out the best flavors of life that only the gospel can reveal, by enduring in a life pointed toward God, and by producing a thirst in yourself and others to grow ever closer to God. By having salt in ourselves, may we be at peace with one another.

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Itchy nose and (hopefully) cancer-free!

Between my nose itching and my phone buzzing all day yesterday, I know how many of you were thinking and praying for me yesterday. Many thanks! I felt upheld in so many ways.

Everything went really well yesterday! Michael and I showed up at the hospital at 8:25am for my "wire loc." I was in a perky mood, making jokes and whatnot. Michael and I noticed that, while we are both extroverts, on this particular morning, I was externalizing everything and he was internalizing. Of course, that had something to do with our respective positions in this ordeal - I am the one who has something to do, and has some control over my body, and he is the one who has to sit by and feel helpless and watch me be in pain. My take on yesterday's part of the journey was this: up until now, every procedure has had an unknown and possibly devastating outcome. This time, though the procedure was a much bigger deal, I knew what the outcome was, and that it was good. By the end of the day, I would be cancer free! That made everything along the way totally worth it.

That said, the wire loc was not my favorite thing, and as it proceeded, my initial perkiness faded somewhat. My breast was not fully healed from the procedure last week, but now they were squeezing, and moving, and squashing the poor thing in the mammogram machine, then finally numbing it (painful in itself), then coming in from underneath to put a big needle in, only to find that it was in the wrong place and we had to do it all again. Once they were successful, they stuck the wire through the needle, took out the needle, and taped the wire up against my skin. Then they put me in a wheelchair and went to get Michael, and I heard an unknown guy say, "That's not my fiance." Then a nurse, "Oops, wrong fiance!" Then they fetched the correct guy, and off we went. (Phew!)

My time in the pre-op area was long, though I did actually get into surgery earlier than expected. While in pre-op, Dr. Skinner came in to say hello and check in. I like her more every time I see her. She said they would be taking about a walnut sized amount of tissue out, and was generally very calming. Then off she went. One sort of traumatic thing about pre-op was trying to get the IV in. They were working on my hand/wrist, and could sort of get the veins to come out (despite my being cold, hungry, and dehydrated from fasting), but the veins were "wiggly." They finally gave up after a couple attempts, leaving a big bruise. Later, the anesthesiologist was successful, after quite a bit of flicking the already bruised back of my hand. OUCH. Honestly, that was the most painful part of this ordeal.

The nurses and care and conversation in the two different pre-op areas were all wonderful and friendly and funny, and, all things considered, it was a pretty okay experience. But honestly, the parts of that experience that are the most vivid memories are with Michael - stroking my hair, holding my hand (tenderly, and also letting me squeeze the heck out of it during the whole IV failure episode)... We talked about our lives together, past, present and future. We said loving words to each other, and gazed at each other with a depth of love that is different than we'd experienced ever before. I do love that man. I can't think of a better partner to be going through this with.

Finally, the second anesthesiologist came in. After chatting for a while, she said to Michael, "All right get your hugs and kisses in now, cuz she won't remember later!" Then she gave me the happy relaxing medicine, and wheeled me toward the OR. For some reason, I told her jokes all the way there. "Charles Dickens walks into a bar and orders a martini, and the bartender says, 'Olive, or twist?'" (you have to say it aloud to get it) "A man gets a knock on the door, and he answers it and there's a snail on the stoop. The man takes the snail and throws it in the garden. Three years later, there's another knock at the door, and the the man answers and there's the snail, who says, 'Dude! What was THAT all about?!'" She liked that one. She made me tell the OR folks the jokes, which I did, and they laughed. Then someone else told the joke about the string where the punchline is, "I'm a frayed knot," but her delivery wasn't great, and Dr. Skinner told her so. I said, "Maybe if you'd said it this way..." and everyone agreed that was better. (I'm such a snot! Who do I think I am, correcting people's joke delivery, especially people about to save my life?) Then they put the magic sleepy mask on and then I was suddenly in the post-op area. (So weird.)

After she finished, Dr. Skinner came out and talked to Michael, said everything went well, and that all of the tissue around what they took out looked very healthy, so they were confident. Hooray, relief! She said he could come see me in an hour. He waited an hour... then an hour and a half... then two hours... Meanwhile, the nurse told me that they hadn't been able to find him! She referred to me as Kathryn, which I thought was strange (my middle name), but as she left to find him again, I realized, "They're asking for Kathryn's family!" Sure enough, it took another 20 min for a flustered but relieved  Michael to come back to me. I asked if they had called for a Kathryn, and he said yes! "The Kathryn family!" And no one ever responded! Frustrating.

I ended up staying in post-op quite a while because I was pretty nauseous. After I successfully took a walk down the hall and kept down some gingerale and crackers, and Michael had retrieved my Vicodin from the pharmacy, we left - around 6pm! The rest of the night was a lot of calling loved ones, lying still, and watching NBC Thursday night television. I was SO grateful to have Michael there. And now, as I write this, my dad is in a rented car on his way from the Buffalo airport. He changed his flight home from Chicago at the last minute so he could be with me today (leaves tomorrow morning). What a lucky daughter. Maybe I'll even help him with his sermon for Sunday. ;)

Hopefully the pathology will be done in time for my post-op, Wednesday of next week. The following week I will have an appointment with Dr. Skinner (who is out of town next week). At some point, I will meet with a general oncologist and the radiation oncologist. Fun times ahead!

The Planner is happy

The planner in me is feeling so good right now, because I have a SCHEDULE for what's happening tomorrow! I love schedules!!

8:30am - arrive at breast care center for wire loc. This is a procedure in which a wire is put in my breast to direct the surgeon to the area where the cancer is. After the biopsy that led to this diagnosis, the doctor left a little chip in there, so that's how they'll find it.

10:00am - arrive at surgical center in basement. They will begin prepping me for surgery, I'll talk to the anesthesiologist, get an IV, stuff like that. In my mind, this looks much like the scene in The Wizard of Oz where everyone's getting ready to see the wizard, the Cowardly Lion gets a haircut and ribbons in his mane, etc. I'm just sure it will be exactly like that, except minus the "cowardly." Only bravery here.

1:45pm - Complete with lion-esque ribbons (aka IV), I will be wheeled into the OR. Up to this point, Michael will be able to be there with me (hooray!), but here I'm on my own, which is fine because I'll be sleeping anyway. The procedure lasts about an hour and a half.

3:15pm - complete surgery, go to recovery. I will stay in recovery until I can keep down liquids and all that jazz.

Sometime Later - go home and party about being cancer-free. By which I mean, probably go back to sleep.

Six Weeks From Now - They will wait until I am completely healed before they start damaging my breast tissue with radiation (so considerate). So, I'll start radiation I guess in early November, and go for 6 weeks.

All right, let's do this thing! Oh by the way, I have decided to take Sunday off, after much urging from many people. So some wonderful lay people will read the sermon I had already prepared, and lead worship. Works for me!

Thanks for the continued prayers and good thoughts! Keep 'em coming! I'll let you know how it goes...

Thursday, for realsies

I was told yesterday that I should count on not having surgery today. So today I woke up, got ready in the normal way, made myself a nice breakfast of a banana and a bowl of cereal, and then the phone rang. "Dr. Skinner wants to get you in this afternoon." Wha?? "But you can't eat anything." Too late. I seriously considered offering to try to throw it up, but decided against it. So they asked anesthesiology what they thought, and they don't feel comfortable doing this with food in my stomach. Dang it! If I had slept in 10 more minutes this morning, and I could be getting rid of this cancer today.

So now the surgery is on Thursday, for realsies. My dear, sweet fiance is celebrating a Big Birthday that day, so I said my gift to him is an excuse to take the day off of work, and instead spend the day in a hospital waiting room, and then caring for a groggy Johanna. (No putting on a cute dress and going out to dinner that night, though. Oh well.) He said my real birthday present to him is a cancer-free fiance, which is about the best gift he can imagine. Hopefully his cancer-free fiance will also be able to attend his birthday party this weekend. Maybe we can just prop me up in a comfortable seat for the night, and not make me move.

I am told the recovery for this is pretty quick. The nurse thought about three days later, I'd feel fine. (Which brings us to Sunday, and the dilemma of whether or not to take Sunday off...) I asked how long after surgery we would start radiation. She said usually they wait 6 weeks (!). That puts me starting radiation in November, and continuing into mid-December. Merry Christmas - here's your health, all wrapped up in a radiation burned and fatigued body! Advent programming this year might need to be somewhat less...

For those who like twists and turns

Turns out, I'm not having surgery tomorrow. Why? you ask. Because I didn't get on the schedule. They didn't know to schedule me. Yes, true story, the reason is that dumb.

I called today after 2:30, as I was instructed, to find out what time my surgery would be. They couldn't find me on the calendar. Checked several ways. Finally I was put in touch with the scheduling girl, and she said she had no nothing that said I was supposed to have surgery. I explained that this had been on the calendar since Sept. 6, and I had all the pre-op info, and the surgeon had said to me, "See you on Tuesday," so I knew I had it right. She said she was sorry, but had nothing on me, and since they could not get in touch with my surgeon (who I later learned had gone home sick earlier that afternoon), there wasn't anything she could do. This has never happened before, so she didn't know what to tell me. I hung up the phone having no idea what to feel, which of course caused me to cry - a strange cry, where I couldn't seem to get the emotion out (whatever it was), like it was getting stuck on something on its way out. A few minutes later, the plastic surgeon who had sown me up last week called. "How are you?" he asked, to which I answered, "I don't know." He said, "Yeah, we're confused, too. We don't know what happened. We put the order in, but somehow it didn't come through." So what happens next? They're going to see about getting me in on Thursday, which is Michael's birthday (happy birthday, dearest... on my birthday this year we got to have my first biopsy, so this would be right on par). Unfortunately, while tomorrow worked for all the important people to be there, Thursday is quite a bit trickier. We can make it work, but there might be some tag-teaming in the waiting room. But if they can't get me in Thursday, Dr. Skinner is out of town next week, so I'd have to wait two weeks to do this thing. Not really interested in that.

Have I mentioned this is getting old? Get the cancer out already!

So I honestly don't know what I feel right now. Discouraged, definitely, but more than that. You get your head around something, you know, and prepare yourself for it emotionally, let the people know who need to know, get done what needs to get done... and then it all changes. It sucks, plain and simple. I was diagnosed a month ago today. I started all this testing the second week in July. I have just enough emotional stamina to make it through this with grace, but not enough to manage all these twists and turns with a smile, that's for sure. So tonight has been a lot more tears than smiles. Michael soaked up many of them, as he held my hand and prayed aloud for God to provide me with the strength I need to handle this, and told me over and over what has been the theme of the season: "I gotcha. I gotcha. We're gonna get through this. If you don't have the emotional stamina, lean on me and all the people who love you."

So. You can put your urgent during-surgery prayers and positive thoughts on hold for a few days. I'll keep you posted. 

(In other news, I had my first congregation-bringing-pastor-meals meal tonight, and it was delicious and totally made my night. Winter squash soup, YUM!)

Beautiful

Today gets two posts because it is such a beautiful day. I told both of my churches this morning of the wonderful news I received this week. The outpouring of love from them has been so remarkable, and so wonderfully unique to who they both are. After worship last week as well as today, some folks from one church gathered round me and laid hands on me and offered prayers of healing. What a lovely moment when a congregation can pray in this way for their pastor. At the other church, I was surprised at coffee hour to find a cake - celebrating my having been with them for one year, and also my engagement (Michael's name was on it too!), and also, they added, to celebrate my good news. Two beautiful expressions of care, both of which made me feel so in the right place, so surrounded in love, and so, so blessed. Thank you, God!

Sermon: Asking Questions and Looking Dumb (both are okay!) (Sept. 23, 2012)

Many thanks to my dear friend Victoria, who helped me write and preach this sermon this morning. It was a big hit with my congregations! Hope you enjoy.
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Pentecost 17B

Sept. 23, 2012

Mark 9:30-37

Victoria: There was a video floating around Facebook a few months back, as they often do, of a 4th grade boy at a town hall meeting in New Orleans, at which President Obama was in attendance. During the time when people could ask questions, the kid raises his hand, and President Obama goes over to him. After introducing himself, the kid asks his question: “Why do people hate you? They’re supposed to love you. God is love.” Gutsy kid! It’s a legitimate question, of course, but what adult do you know who would ask such a question of such an important person as the president of the United States of America!

Filters aren’t something you’re born with; they’re something you develop as you mature. Anyone who has kids or encounters kids knows how delightful, hilarious, and often wise the unfiltered remarks of kids can be. But in an adult? Such candidness is not so charming. In today’s gospel we see the disciples operating with some good filters, don’t we? No one wants to be caught out asking Jesus what he means when he says he’s going to suffer, die, and be raised. No one wants to be that guy, the guy who raises his hand and gets all the dirty looks from the people who know what’s going on!

(exaggerated) Well, thank goodness we’ve come a long way since the disciples. We’ve had two thousand years to figure out this faith thing! Anytime you have a question about faith, or about something in the Bible, the Christian tradition can hand you all the answers you want. Thank goodness, we don’t really need to display our ignorance by asking questions anymore! We’ve got it all down in this book. (Points to Bible.) You got questions, Jesus got answers. God said it, I believe it, and that settles it.

Johanna: Uhm, Victoria?... (raises hand)

Victoria: Um...because being Christians gives us that kind of assurance. We have this divine Word to help us live our lives. Being Christian means never having to end a sentence with a question mark.

Johanna: (waves hand frantically, and snapping)

Victoria: (trying not to see her) That’s what Jesus means when he gives us children as models of faith. The goal is to accept with child-like faith that God is right, even if you don’t understand what God’s saying...that’s what the disciples are modeling for us in today’s Gospel. They don’t understand what Jesus is saying, but they know that Jesus is Lord. So they don’t raise their hand! (looking pointedly at Johanna)

Johanna: (has aneurism in front pew)

Victoria: ...Johanna? Do you have something to add?

Johanna: Yeah, sorry, I’m just not so sure that’s quite right. I know I said you could preach today and I told everyone that you’d do a good job and everything, but... what you’re saying just doesn’t sit well with me.

Victoria: What part of that doesn’t sit well with you?

Johanna: Well, first of all, it seems, according to the Gospel reading, that doubt and questions have been a part of faith from the very beginning.

Victoria: Well, sure, but that doesn’t mean that it’s GOOD to have doubts...

Johanna: I just mean, you seem to be saying that if you have faith, it means that you can’t have any questions. But when I read this text, I see here that the first disciples did have questions, but that they were afraid to ask. To me, the problem with this isn’t the having questions, but the being afraid to ask. It’s the fear that’s concerning.

Victoria: I can’t believe you’re calling me out in front of your entire congregation.

Johanna: Well, I had a question... and I wasn’t afraid to ask it!

Victoria: No, seriously, THIS is why I don’t ask questions. Because someone...someone like YOU... ALWAYS knows better than I do, and by showing my ignorance you’re just showing how vulnerable I am.

Johanna: You know... I wouldn’t be surprised if vulnerable is exactly how the disciples felt.

Victoria: I’m sorry, would YOU like to preach this sermon?

Johanna: No, not really. (sits down)

Victoria. OK then. Um...(tries to find place in notes)

Johanna: It’s just that... (stands up, takes over) Here Jesus has just told them about how he’s going to be betrayed and suffer and die, and then rise again, that this is what the Son of Man has to do. This is now the second time he’s told them that, but it’s still really hard for them to understand. Heck, it’s hard for ME to understand, even 2000 years later! If you don’t have questions about the meaning of Jesus’ death and resurrection, then you’re probably not paying attention.

Victoria: Hey, I’m paying attention! And I do have questions. But I don’t like to ask them in front of everyone when I can just look them up on my own.

Johanna: But why not bring it up with your community of faith? This is the place to ask them! This teaching is difficult, and we need to spend time thinking about it and talking about it and asking about it...I think the church is a great place to do that! What’s so unfaithful about asking God questions?

Victoria: Because God is ineffable. Ineffable! I mean, part of God is revealed in Jesus Christ, this real man that walked the earth who helped us to better understand God’s character... but really, there’s a part of God that’s just fundamentally mysterious, that we’ll never fully understand. It feels WRONG to question God...presumptuous...I mean, who am I to ask God about God’s plan for the cosmos? Aren’t there questions that you’re afraid to ask God?

Johanna: Well sure, of course there are. And that’s a good point. But that brings us back to some of what you were saying earlier – that asking questions makes us admit our vulnerability, our lack of knowing... You might say, it forces us to realize that God knows, and we don’t, and that that is okay!

Victoria: Well, yeah...God does know. Yeah, ok. I can get on board with that.

Johanna: I really didn’t mean to shang-hai your sermon. Please, continue. (sits down)

Victoria: Yeah, absolutely. I can just...(riffles pages, then looks up) ...There’s another reason I don’t like to ask God questions.

Johanna: What’s that?

Victoria: ...I don’t want to say.

Johanna: Come on...

Victoria: It just sounds weird for a seminarian to say it. People are going to judge me.

Johanna: No, they won’t! We were just talking about bringing our questions to the community of faith – we won’t judge you now! Will we? (ask congregation, congregation claps in agreement) See? These are lovely, nonjudgmental people! Go ahead.

Victoria: Well, I mean...in my heart of hearts...I’m kind of afraid that if I ask God too many questions, God is going to make me the answer.

Johanna: Hmm... say more about that.

Victoria: C’mon...look at what God does with people who get all up in God’s business! Just look at Mary. Here’s this young girl, unmarried, probably about 13, and she’s probably wondering, “God, what do you have in store for my life?” And then God is like, “BAM! Here’s an answer! How about an unplanned pregnancy out of wedlock, and by the way, you’ll be carrying the Son of God, a child who’s born to die?”

Johanna: Yeah…

Victoria: And then look at Jeremiah in our first reading today. When he was just a boy, when God first called him to prophesy, he said, “How can I do that, I’m only a boy?” He becomes a prophet anyway, and then, BAM! “Here’s an answer! I’ll put words in your mouth so you can prophesy.” And now he’s dealing with all this suffering and persecution - he even refers to himself as “a gentle lamb that was led to slaughter.” I’m sure that’s not quite what he had in mind when he asked God, “How can I do that?”!

Johanna: No, probably not.

Victoria: And then there’s the disciples, right? Like Peter! He’s out one day, it’s a nice day, he’s fishing, guys love to fish, you know? And then Jesus comes along, and he’s like, “Follow me!”, and Peter’s like, “Ok!” and then he asks that question, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life!” And Jesus is like, “Good question, Peter. BAM! Here’s an answer! You’re the rock on whom I’ll build my church.” And then a couple decades later, Peter dies upside down on a cross in Rome!

Johanna: It’s a tough life, that’s for sure.

Victoria: So there’s just a part of me that’s a little bit worried that my baptism might have been God going, “BAM! I’m going to make you the answer.” I mean, how else did I end up in seminary? I wanted to be an astronaut! I went to space camp, I was all ready! But now I’m going to be a pastor! And I bet there are people here today who ended up doing stuff they never dreamed of doing, right? (asks congregation) All because God made them the answer to a need!

Johanna: Vocation sure ain’t easy.

Victoria: (deflating) No...It sure ain’t.

Johanna: (stand up) But I think in our baptism, it’s not just a call, or a demand, but an assurance...not like the assurance you talked about earlier, the kind where you take things at face value and don’t ask questions. No, it’s an assurance that God is with us, wherever we go, and that means that we don’t have to be afraid - to ask questions, to have doubts, even to yell at God that we don’t understand what God is doing with our lives!

Victoria: I know we receive assurance in the words of absolution, or forgiveness, after confession, or in the words, “This is my body, given for you.” This is the same assurance, isn’t it?

Johanna: Exactly!

Victoria: But it’s not assurance that’s telling us that we need to know everything - especially not everything about God.

Johanna: Preach it, sister!

Victoria: So you’re saying that the model we should lift up out of today’s gospel isn’t the disciples who were afraid to ask questions, but the little child. The one who doesn’t know everything, who is vulnerable, who is the “least” among us, but who also isn’t afraid to ask questions. The one without filters...like the kid who asked Obama why people hated him.

Johanna: Yeah, I think that God wants to know our deepest questions and desires, our most nagging doubts as well as our greatest joys.

Victoria: You know, when you look at it that way... There is something beautiful about making ourselves vulnerable, and asking those questions that scare us – asking each other, but also asking God. Because when we do that, we have a chance to learn more about God, and more about ourselves in the process.

Johanna: And that doesn’t mean our faith is any less. In fact, I’d say it shows that we crave a closer relationship with the God who created us, who redeemed us through God’s Son, and who continues to work in us and in the church.

Victoria: Well, that’ll preach!

Johanna: Hey, Victoria?

Victoria: Yes, Johanna?

Johanna: How about, since you’re the preacher today, you close us in prayer?

Victoria: Gladly! Let us pray...
Ineffable, mysterious God, we have so many questions. Grant us the courage to ask those questions, even as we strive to understand you and our faith in you more deeply and more wholly. And in our asking, guide our hearts always toward you. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The best bad news

This just in: the "biopsy thing" on Monday revealed NO cancer in the second area! Hurrah!

Okay, here's the story. First of all, it was actually nice having some convalescing time this week, not only for my impressive gash from Monday's biopsy, but for my spirit. I spent Monday afternoon pretty stationary, as I was quite sore after the happy numbing drugs wore off. With my aunt and uncle, and later Michael, I watched movies, read, and just generally rested. Tuesday felt a little better, but I still lay low, a much needed respite. Wednesday I felt good enough to work, but not good enough to drive too much (that takes a lot more boob muscle than you might realize!), so stuck around home.

Today I feel almost normal. I put on a cute outfit (new jacket, a favorite necklace, and cute shoes!), and decided that today would be a beautiful day! I noted to myself how very blue Irondequoit Bay was on my drive to work. I smiled at people, and laughed, and said, "Good!" when people asked how I was. And I carried my phone around obsessively, waiting for the doctor to call. She didn't. As the day went on, I felt more and more deflated. By the afternoon, I was a zombie. I called the doctor 15 min before the office closed, and learned that although my results were in, my doctor, who is the only person allowed to give me the information, had been called into the OR. "She'll probably call tomorrow," the nice receptionist said. And I hung up and hung my head and started to cry. "I can't take much more of this," I texted my loved ones. I had spent so much energy being upbeat today that I simply had nothing left.

Just when I had come to terms with not hearing until tomorrow, the phone rang, at 5:45. "This is Dr. Skinner." "Hi!" "It's not cancer.... Thought you'd appreciate some good news. I'll see you on Tuesday." And suddenly, I am 50 pounds lighter! I feel a skip in my step! My smile is genuine instead of forced! Who has ever been so happy as I am that she will have surgery next week followed by 6 weeks of radiation, but here I am, happy as can be! It's the best bad news I could have hoped for.

So yes, that is the plan. I will have a lumpectomy (officially called "partial mastectomy") on Tuesday. The day will start with a wire being put in to the chip the doctor left after the biopsy that found the cancer, and this wire will guide the surgeon. It's outpatient, so I'll go home the same day. I don't know what the normal recovery period is for this, though someone told me she had gone out to dinner the night after her lumpectomy, so that's good. And then at some point in October, we will talk more specifically about radiation, and I expect that will continue into early December. Not sure how it will impact me physically, except that I will have a sunburn (inside and out, both sides) for 6 weeks and will be tired. But otherwise, radiation won't make me look like a cancer patient (I won't lose my hair - that's a chemo side effect). It certainly has its fear factors, especially long term, but, well, I've done it once, and I can do it again.

The "biopsy thing"

Actual name of the procedure I had today (I think): site select stereotactic excision biopsy, aka, "biopsy thing." (They have to ask me beforehand if I know what they are doing and where, and "biopsy thing" was the answer I gave, and they seemed satisfied with that.) It went well. Now that the novocain has worn off, I'm feeling the pain of having had an inch and a half incision in my breast and a hunk of tissue taken out, but that's to be expected.

For those who want details of what happened, they follow. For those who don't, skip to the next paragraph. "Site select" means that my breast was in compression for this thing, so they could choose very specifically what tissue they would take. "Stereotactic" is the name of the table on which I was lying - a table raised about 5 feet off the ground with a hole in the middle, through which I dangle my breast, and the surgeon works on it from underneath. "Excision" means this wasn't a needle biopsy, but a full incision where they took out a bunch of tissue. So I started with a mammogram, vitals, etc., then crawled up on the table and got "comfortable" (<-- used very loosely), then had some pictures taken, then received a mess of Novocain, which was definitely the most painful part. Much grimacing ensued. Then stuff happened that I couldn't feel, but at the end I had a little less tissue and a good sized incision (which connects two of my previous scars, so now I just have one big, strangely shaped one). The amount of tissue was about half an inch in diameter and maybe an inch or two long. It should be enough to determine for sure whether there is any cancer in there, or whether it is just atypical hyperplasia. After the bloody part, I rolled onto a gurney and into the next room, where the plastic surgeon sewed me up with inside, dissolving stitches, and put a glue "bandage" on top. Then one more mammogram for good measure, and I was out, about 2 1/2 hours in all.

I will have results from this adventure on Wednesday or Thursday. If it is cancer-free, I will have a lumpectomy a week from tomorrow (Tuesday next week), and then begin radiation. If there is cancer in there, I will have to have a mastectomy, which means I'll meet with the plastic surgeon and discuss reconstruction, and then mastectomy and reconstruction will all happen at the same time in one 6-hour surgery. Here begins (er, continues) the waiting game.

Fun fact: Today would have been my 13th anniversary of being cancer-free. So much for that, I guess, but praise God that I'm still Hodgkin's-free! Yay!

Okay, here are some highlights from the day:
* Some folks hadn't yet seen my fantastically gorgeous engagement ring, so I got to be all giddy about it with new people. Always fun.
* When I had situated myself on the table and had my breast in the "dangling position" through the hole, the surgeon came in and said, "Hey, how ya doing? Just hanging out?" Ha! Indeed! That about made my day.
* During this whole procedure, I have to have my head turned toward the wall, so one thing they do is assign one person to stand on the side of the table I'm facing and talk to me and hold my hand. It's so humane, so helpful, so sweet, and the lady who did it today I just love. (She said, "Oh yay! I get this job!") We ended up having a good talk about faith, about houses and places to live, about my Make-a-Wish experience, all kinds of stuff!
* The plastic surgeon who sewed me up was also really friendly and we chatted all the way through that. In case you wondered, he used to coach high school lacrosse when he was in med school, and he and his wife met over the anatomy table in med school.
* Just in general, everyone is so kind and considerate. They always introduce themselves, and say nice things, and make jokes, and express the appropriate level of concern and sympathy while still instilling confidence. I honestly have a good experience every time I am there. Even Michael and my uncle and aunt had a good experience in the waiting room - three different people came out to tell them what was happening, including the surgeon herself!

After the procedure, my aunt and uncle brought me home and we took it easy all afternoon, watching movies, reading, chatting. So wonderful to have people who love me so close by. And soon I have dinner with Michael to look forward to, eating a meal provided to me by my neighbor/colleague. Really, it's a pretty good life.

Thanks for the prayers and good thoughts today - I felt uplifted!

Sermon: Out of Death Comes Life (Sept. 16, 2012)

Pentecost 16B

Sept. 16, 2012

Mark 8:27-38

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

            “I have decided to follow Jesus, I have decided to follow Jesus, I have decided to follow Jesus. No turning back. No turning back.” It’s a sweet, simple song, one I learned as a kid and maybe some of you did, too. There are some theological concerns about it for Lutherans – do we really decide to follow Jesus, or does Jesus choose us in baptism and we respond – but at the end of the day, it goes pretty well with today’s Gospel lesson, in which Jesus lays out what it really means to follow him, in some of the more famous words of the Gospels: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”

            Imagine how shocking this must have been to hear for Jesus’ disciples. Here they have given up everything to follow Jesus, and now Jesus is upping the ante: deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me. Take up your instrument of torture and public humiliation and follow me. Youch! Do you still want to decide to follow Jesus, no turning back, no turning back?

            Well, before we throw in the towel, let’s look more carefully at what this might mean. First, Jesus says that those who want to follow him must “deny themselves.” This seems to go against the grain in a culture that rightly urges children and adults alike to, “Just be yourself!” But when Jesus says to “deny yourself,” he does not mean to be someone other than who you are. Scripture and the whole of Christian theology are very clear that each of us was endowed with unique and wonderful gifts, and we should by no means deny those gifts or what we have to offer this world. Rather, what Jesus is urging his followers to do is to separate ourselves from those external things that try to define us: our culture, our ethnicity, our socioeconomic status. People in Jesus’ time were most often defined or identified by the family to which they belonged. But here Jesus tells us to deny what we are “supposed” to be, and live into a new identity: as children of God and followers of the Messiah. Self-denial for Jesus is not self-annihilation; it is complete redefinition.

            Next, Jesus urges followers to take up their cross and follow him. Let’s be clear – Jesus is not advocating for us to just grin and bear it when we are suffering or victimized. Too often this text has been used flippantly: “That’s just your cross to bear.” But Jesus has spent the previous seven chapters alleviating unnecessary suffering – healing the sick, casting out demons, feeding the hungry. This sort of suffering is not ordained by God. But Jesus is talking about a sort of suffering that comes with being his disciple, and that is the persecution that sometimes comes along with that gig. Being a follower of Jesus is counter-cultural. You don’t always fit in. We are blessed to live in a country that allows for religious freedom, so the level of persecution isn’t the same as what the early Christians faced. But there is some level of suffering that comes from living the life that Christ calls us to – because that life is really hard!

            And finally, Jesus says that those who lose their life for his sake and for the sake of the gospel will save it. This part has taken on an especially poignant meaning for me this week. This is such a compelling concept, and one so central to the Christian faith – that when life is lost, life is saved. It is, of course, the story of resurrection, in which life was lost on Good Friday, and eternal and abundant life was found on Easter morning. But it is a story that is central to our lives all the time, even apart from Lent and the Easter season. Let me tell you a couple stories I have heard or experienced in the past couple weeks.

            This morning, in a congregational meeting following worship, Peace Lutheran Church of Rochester will vote to close their doors. After a long decline, they no longer have the membership to sustain themselves. It’s a devastating time, to have to close the doors of a beloved church – a church where you and your children were married, children and grandchildren baptized, where you thought someday your funeral would be. It is a death in every sense, and I’m sure the faithful members of Peace will grieve that loss in the months to come. It is, for them, Good Friday.

            But here is Easter morning: this week, a young man named Matthew was ordained to the ministry of Word and Sacrament, and has been called to serve what is being called the South Wedge Mission. It has become clear that there is a great need there, and Matthew has been charged with the call to hear the needs of that community, to respond to the movement of the Spirit in that place, and to drum up interest for this new church. I had a chance to hear from Matthew this week about the work that has already been done, and it is very exciting! Part of the vote at Peace Church today will be to give all of their assets to this new mission start. Out of the death of a church, new life arises. Where that life will go or what it will become is an unknown at this point – all we know is that God has it in hand, that Christ is present in it, and that the Spirit is guiding it.

            Here’s another story. When I was 15, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Although I did my best to still be a normal teenager, a lot of my high school time was affected by this – you might say I lost my life as a normal teenager. On the other hand, the blessings and wisdom that came from that experience are innumerable, and I wouldn’t be the person I am today without having had that experience. The next part of that story, of course, you are aware of – that recently I was diagnosed with cancer again, this time as one of the long-term side effects of my radiation treatments 13 years ago. It has been a difficult few weeks, knowing that a killer lives inside me, knowing that I may lose my breast in an effort to get rid of that killer, knowing that my life as a healthy 29-year-old at the beginning of her career, and about to be married and start a family, has been, in some way, lost. It’s Good Friday.

            But here is Easter morning: nearly every day I am surprised by some contact I make as a result of this “death.” People I haven’t talked to in years, who I didn’t even think know who I am, have reached out to me and expressed their appreciation for my faith and my spirit. People who have called me and my story an inspiration. I’m able to relate to people in deeper ways, building new relationships. I have been keeping a blog of this experience – I post reflections during the week and sermons on Sunday. I expected it to reach my close family and friends, but in the couple weeks I’ve been keeping it, I have had over 2200 views! It has become a way to share my story and my faith with people who otherwise would not hear it. I have made even more unexpected connections, and built more relationships, and become even more acutely aware of our Triune God who is a God of relationship. My relationship with God has deepened immensely these few weeks, as has my relationship to my friends and family, my relationship with all of you, and my relationship to the world. What life!

            What about you? What are your stories of deaths, and what is the life that has come from them? Perhaps you are experiencing a death right now – a kid gone off to college, a loved one off to war, a broken relationship, a breach of trust. Even good things can be deaths – I’m getting married soon, and will experience a death of life as I know it, life as a single woman, life living alone. What is your story? …

            And while we can’t always see the big picture in the midst of things, what is the life, the resurrection, that you have experienced by losing some part of your life as you know it? How is God using death to bring about life in you?

            Friends, our faith is one of resurrection, but resurrection cannot come until something has died, until we have lost our lives for Christ’s sake and for the sake of the Gospel. Until we have denied ourselves, and taken up our crosses. Until we have given up the identity the world gave us and taken on the identity that Christ gives us: as beloved children of God. But when resurrection does come, we shall indeed have life, and have it abundantly.

            Let us pray. God of life, you have endowed us with many good things, but we also face many challenges in our lives, many denials and brokenness and deaths. Help us to see that in you, death is always followed by resurrection. Grant us the courage to believe this, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Angels and Bolters

Speaking of connections, today I made my first in-person connection with the Breast Cancer Coalition of Rochester (BCCR). What a list of wonderful services they offer! Several support groups of various types (including one for friends and family), informational gatherings for which they invite area doctors to come speak, even spiritual offerings (I was warned I may get tapped to lead one of these somewhere down the line!). I had a long chat with Holly, the head person of that, then attended their "Brown Bag" group that meets Fridays at noon. I was, of course, the youngest person in the room, but it was still nice to hear these women, some already triumphant, some still triumphing, over breast cancer. Laughter, tears, heart-wrenching stories, the whole bit.

One of the things that came up several times both in my meeting with Holly and in the brown bag group was "bolters." One lady said, "There are angels and there are bolters," that is, the people who stick by your side, and the people who can't take it, are too busy, whatever. Some women have had their boyfriend/spouse become a bolter when the s*** hit the fan. How devastating.

So today I have been reflecting on how grateful I am to have the angel Michael in my life: who, instead of running when he found out I had cancer, put a ring on my finger to show me he's here now and always, never leaving my side; who promises to be at every doctor appointment if I'll let him, taking copious notes to send on to my family who is so far away; who would even find a way to accompany me to every radiation treatment for 6 weeks if need be; who tells me that each new scar I acquire only makes me more beautiful because it adds to my story, my experience, my wisdom; who promises to tell me as often as needed that I am so beautiful on the inside that no extent of surgery could ever change that; who remains my rock (and sometimes tear soaker-upper) every day, even though I know how much he struggles with all of this. Hearing some of the stories I heard today, I am even more grateful that I found someone who will (who already does!) take seriously, "in sickness and health."

Thank you, my sweet angel Michael. You are a blessing to me.

Making connections

True to form, I have taken this life turn as an opportunity to connect with people. By that I mean I have made some efforts - calling about support groups, doing my research - and it has returned to me ten-fold. I've already got 2-3 meetings with people set up for this weekend, including attending a "Young Survivors Soiree" that is held four times a year or so for young survivors of breast cancer (sponsored by the Breast Cancer Coalition of Rochester). I'm eager to meet some other "young" survivors in the area and get their unique perspective on this journey! A couple days ago I got a call from someone I've never met, a parishioner of one of my seminary classmates who found my church's number online and cold called me. He is also a Hodgkin's survivor, and his sister is going in for her reconstructive surgery today (prayers for her!). He said, "I spent the morning talking to Pastor A. about Hodgkin's Disease and breast cancer, and I think you should call my sister," who is an advocate for breast cancer and has done a lot of work bringing people together. So yesterday, I did, and we had a lovely talk, maybe 30 minutes long - just two strangers, telling their stories, sharing a piece of themselves, and growing closer to each other through our commonalities and, dare I say, closer to our God who a God of relationship.

When I picture God at work right now, I picture an active breeze, blowing through the leaves, rustling things and making itself known, pushing things together that otherwise had no reason to be so close. In these late days of summer/early days of fall, when the sun is still warm but the breeze is just cool enough to take off the edge, I feel enveloped by this glorious God-breeze, soothed, refreshed, encouraged. God is certainly doing God's work these days (and every day!).

Mininstering to the minister

I have said before and I'll say it again: I have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support I have received from people. Certainly from friends, acquaintances and strangers alike - especially through this blog, I have heard from people I haven't heard from in years, or who I didn't even think knew who I was anymore. My heart grows a bit with each such contact.

One of the most touching connections I have made has, interestingly enough, been with people at my churches who are not (yet) even members. The other day, we had a family visiting one of my churches - a mom, daughter, and grandpa. This was the Sunday just after my diagnosis, and while there had been an email sent out to that effect, not everyone is on email, so I decided to make an announcement about vaguely what was happening, and request prayers for an upcoming doctor's appointment. On the way out of worship, I was all ready to greet this family and welcome them and thank them for joining us, but before I could say anything, they told me that they would be praying for me this week. Later, at coffee hour, when I went to talk to them, they wanted to know how I was doing. What a beautiful moment, when the people I thought I should be ministering to instead began ministering to me.

Another similar experience was when I met this weekend with some soon-to-be new members of one church about joining. They invited me to their lovely home, and we learned about each other, found many things in common, and had a good talk. This is a woman who, the very first time they visited back in the spring, asked me on her way out, "Is there anything I can be praying for for you this week?" And now, again as I was intending to ministering to them, I was sent home with a bag full of homemade tomato soup, homemade raspberry jam, and leftover cherry dessert.

This experience truly has been beautiful, and incredibly humbling, and a poignant reminder that we are all in this Body of Christ thing together, each ministering to and loving one another. Three cheers for the "priesthood of all believers"! God grant me the humility to receive the help people are so eager to give, the grace to let myself be a member of these congregations even as I am their pastor, and the hope to go forward in faith.

Sermon: God's 100% Love (it's better than ice cream!) (Sept. 9, 2012)

Pentecost 15B

Sept. 9, 2012

James 2:1-17

Mark 7:24-37

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

         “God’s love is better than ice cream.” It’s a cute Rally Day theme, right? There’s a Sarah McLachlan song by a similar name – “[Your Love Is Better Than] Ice Cream” – and if I recall I had just listened to it on the way to a meeting in which we were discussing Rally Day, and so when the question about a possible theme for Rally Day came up, I threw it out there, and here we are today, our mouths watering for the ice cream the follows today’s worship service, and ready to hear about God’s love.

         Sure, I said, and I’ll talk about God’s love in the sermon! We’ll make a whole day of it! I mean, we pretty much always talk about God’s love in church anyway, don’t we? The pastor who preceded my dad at his first parish was mocked by one parishioner as having preached every week, 52 weeks a year, on love. But I guess you could say that about any gospel-based sermon, because the gospel is a testament to how much God loves us. “For God so loved the world,” and all that. So I figured, even without looking at the texts assigned for today, I could probably squeeze a sermon on God’s love out of them, whatever they are.

         When I first read these texts for today, I saw that there would be no need for squeezing anything out of them. How rich they are, how saturated with displays of the vastness of God’s love! And yet, how very challenging they are. Isaiah reflects on the power and zest God has to free the oppressed. “God will come and save you!” he bellows. Because that’s what a God who is love does! The Psalmist sings the praises of a God who gives justice to those who are oppressed, and food to those who hunger. Salvation! Justice for the oppressed! Feeding the hungry! These are all words we Christians love to hear and strive to live!

         But then… while the following two texts are no less about the boundlessness of God’s love, they are a little more difficult for us to hear. James might as well be talking about a 21^st century church. He challenges his readers: if a person comes into church one Sunday wearing nice clothes, well-appointed accessories, and has a fresh haircut, and someone else comes in with torn jeans, unkempt hair, and maybe a hint of alcohol on his or her breath, which one will you try to make the newest member of your church? Which one will you escort to the best seat in the house, and which will you silently hope will go away? Well, of course I hope that this congregation would gladly accept both of these children of God, and I believe that we would. But as you listen to these two scenarios, it’s hard to escape those feelings of favoritism and partiality that James urges us to avoid, isn’t it?

         I think we can agree that Christ calls us to love both of these neighbors as ourselves, and we see proof of that in the Gospel reading, though it is also one of the most difficult passages in the Bible. Jesus has gone to Tyre, far away from Galilee where he has made a big ruckus. He is approached there by a woman, a Gentile woman, a Syrophoenician woman. That’s three strikes, folks – three reasons for her to be untouchable: her gender, her lack of Jewish faith, and her ethnicity. Jesus did have every reason to avoid her – that is what his culture and the theology of his faith told him to do, three times over. And yet, although he appears to first reject her, he does heal the woman’s daughter in the end. Not only that, but he bestows on her a great compliment: he commends her faith, her persistence, her dedication to her daughter.

         Could we do it? I don’t mean could we heal and cast out demons. But would we be able to show the abundant love of God, even to someone who has as many as three big strikes against them? If God’s love is in us, and enacted through us, how far are we willing to go to show that love?

         Will Campbell was a white, Baptist preacher, born in Mississippi, and was deeply involved in the civil rights movement as an activist and agitator on the side of the African Americans. He served as director for religious life at Ole Miss for a couple years, but had to leave because his controversial views on race attracted death threats. He then did a stint for the National Council of Churches, working with most of the civil rights big shots. In 1957, Campbell was one of four people who escorted the nine black students who integrated Little Rock's Central High School; and he was the only white person to attend the founding of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference by the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. While we can look back on this, 50 years later, and admire his work on behalf of the oppressed, and lift him up as a model of gutsy faith, he wasn’t as popular back then – the hate mail from the white right poured in.

         As Campbell grew older and more mature, he had an uneasy feeling that he hated the redneck bigots who hated. How much easier it was to support and defend those he loved, while hating and oppressing the oppressors. Strange, he thought, how he enjoyed thinking that God hated all the same people that he hated. He realized that he had created God in his own image, and after his own personal and political likeness. He tried to fit the boundlessness of God’s love not for the 1% or the 99%, but for the 100% - all people without conditions, limits, or exceptions – into his own narrow capabilities.

         In response, Will Campbell did something remarkable. He befriended many prominent members of the KuKluxKlan, even did some of their weddings and funerals. When they were sick, he emptied their bedpans. And then you know what happened? The hate mail flooded in – this time from liberal left.

         It’s not easy to love the outsider – especially when it makes the other insiders dislike you or question your integrity. It’s not easy to love the hater, when you disagree with everything about them. But if God loves indiscriminately without playing favorites, and we are made in God’s image (not vice versa!), then striving for that boundless love is certainly our call as Christians! James preaches this in his letter. Christ shows us this in our Gospel lesson, when he heals the daughter of an outcast woman with three strikes against her, and when he touches a deaf man with a speech impediment and says, “Be opened.”

         “Be opened.” Perhaps this command is the one we can take with us this day. Be opened to the possibility that every person here and every person out there is a person worthy of being loved – by God, and by you. Be opened to the hope that boundless love brings to our lives. Be opened to the chance that your heart could be transformed as a result of an encounter from an outsider. Be opened to learning something about yourself from a stranger. Be opened to opportunities to serve those who have not had the privilege that many of us have had in our lives, but also be opened to the possibility that those children of God might also serve you.

         And one more for today: be opened to the movement of the Spirit in your life, which may move you toward a service or a practice of faith you had not previously considered. In a moment, we will have a chance to let that Spirit move in us, and share some new ways that this community of faithful disciples can share God’s boundless, impartial, 100% love with each other and with those outside our walls, in the areas of worship, study and prayer, mission, and youth, family and community. Let us be opened to hearing the Word of God in our hearts, pushing us always toward loving and serving our neighbors, both the insiders and the outsiders, the oppressed and the oppressor, the Democrats and the Republicans, the well-dressed and the dirty, the spiritual and the religious – for all of us are a part of the 100% that God loves.

In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

My girlness

Okay, I'm prepared to talk a little more emotionally about things. First of all, I can't tell you what a difference it makes just to have talked about some directions, and to have laid out a plan. Those who know me know how much a planner I am, so even though I was joking about the flow chart thing yesterday, I really do feel calmer when I picture one. I can focus on the next piece of the path, and know that worrying about the things that happen after that step will not help at this point. (Well, worrying will never help it, I guess.)

That said, I do want to try to get used to the idea that I might lose my breast in the immediate future, and I probably will lose it at some point. I can't help but think about my first round with cancer, when I lost my hair. I was devastated when that happened, most of all because it made me look less like a 16-year-old girl and more like an androgynous cancer patient. Disagree all you want, those who knew me then, but I can cite two occasions when I was mistaken for a boy. Those instances were funny to me then, and they are funny to me now, but the thought was not funny to me as I watched my hair fall like rain from my head. I truly felt like I was losing what made me look like a girl.

Well. Now I'm looking at losing a breast. Upping the ante. And my breast won't grow back looking cuter than ever, like my hair did - although I hear they do amazing things with reconstruction now, so maybe it will be better than ever! What nags at me a bit is this: I'm in that incredibly girly stage right after being proposed to, when I start to dream about the dress, the venue, the flowers... for my wedding. But at least the dress part needs to wait, because my body may be undergoing some pretty serious changes. Can't be trying on a dress with one boob, although my friend just pointed out, we could always shove some socks in there. (Love you, Noey.) I know I wouldn't ever actually have just one boob, because of reconstruction options. But... I dunno, I'm just feeling very protective of that area right now. I don't want anything exposing it or touching it or anything. It's already all scarred and will only get worse. It's just my emotion speaking.

When I lost my hair, I cried in the living room in front of my parents. My brother came in, and asked what was wrong. "I don't want to be bald!" I wailed. "I just want to look like a girl! I don't want to be a cancer patient!" Luke thought for a moment, then said, "There's something cool about a bald chick... It's bold." And he was right! And I believe there is something cool and bold about a one-boobed chick, too. There has been in every breast cancer survivor I've talked to, and I trust that this boldness is in me, too, regardless of when it is that I become a one-boobed chick. Thank you to all of you for reminding me that this boldness is in me.

The Plan

So I met with the doctor this afternoon about my next steps in treating my ductal carcinoma in-situ (DCIS). The appointment went well - my surgeon was very clear, very positive, very calm. We have laid out a plan with several steps and if/thens. Here's what it looks like:

I will go forward with the procedure ("site select" for those who know what that is) I had scheduled on Sept. 17th to see if there is cancer in that (different) quadrant. If there IS, then two areas are affected, and a mastectomy (plus reconstruction) is the best way to go. If there is NOT (here's hoping), then I will have a lumpectomy the following week, Sept. 25. If, once they check out the tissue, they have determined that they got it all out, then I will continue with 6 weeks (5 days a week) of radiation treatments. The drug Tamoxifen may or may not be useful to me; they'll know after the lumpectomy. If they look at the tissue extracted and find that the cancer is more extensive than they thought, they'll have to do another surgery, or maybe just a mastectomy. (I'm picturing a flow chart for this - anyone up to it?)

The doctor said pretty confidently that, given my age, and the fact that I'm getting married (!) and will want to have kids, I should do a "breast preserving" surgery (aka lumpectomy), because the two options (lumpectomy or mastectomy) are equally effective as treatments. At some point I may decide to do a mastectomy, even a double mastectomy, because I'm a very high risk patient now. There's a very good chance I will face this again in the next 20 years sometime. But I agree - I want to hang onto my "girls" until they've done their main job, at least.

I apologize for the emotionless report. Just trying to process all of this. But I feel okay. It's about the best case scenario that I could have expected. As long as I only look at the one next thing, it's very easy to be fine with all of this. So next stop: site select procedure on Sept. 17!

Thank you all for your continued prayers and support.

And now for something completely different...

So, I'd had just about enough bad news in my life lately, so I thought I'd change the mood and write today about the fact that... I'm engaged! My sweet Michael proposed to me yesterday afternoon at the Genesee Country Museum, this cool little living history 1800's village. But let me back up.



First of all, we met about 10 1/2 months ago, and immediately hit it off as friends. We had a ball together, had a lot in common, and loved talking and hanging out. Several weeks into our friendship, our feelings began to evolve, and... voila. We were dating. And not long after that, it began to feel completely natural that we would get married some day.

So he started concocting a grand plan of how he would propose to me, because he knows how much I like a good story. His original plan was to propose to me in a hot air balloon (yes!). Turns out this is extremely expensive - like $800! There was an air balloon festival this weekend in a nearby town, but even that would be $400. But then we found out that at this museum there is a hot air balloon exhibit in which you can go up in what was used for surveillance during the Civil War, and it is only $15 a pop. So Michael suggested we spend Labor Day at the museum, which was on our list to do anyway. Because it was a windy day, I grabbed my kite, which I've been itching to fly. I was completely oblivious to the plan. (Well, I had a hunch, as we had talked about him proposing this weekend, but then we decided not to do it - I just don't feel equipped to make major life decisions right now. So we decided to postpone the whole proposal thing.) In the car on the way there, I was chatting about my visit to my friend Noelle, and about her cool wedding ring. I said I had shown her a bunch of rings I had picked out that I liked. And Michael says, "Were any of them as pretty as this?" and whips one of the very rings I had chosen out of his pocket! (In fact, the very one that I thought he might have chosen when I saw that it was "sold" on the website!) I started yelling at him, "Michael! You weren't supposed to do this this weekend! What are you doing?! Put that away!" But then I saw the ring and was totally distracted. Apparently somewhere in there he actually asked me and I said yes, but I insisted he ask me again at a more appropriate time so he could get on one knee, and I could jump up and down and throw my arms around his neck, like is supposed to happen. So he took it back.

We poked around the museum a while and finally ended up at the hot air balloon. But alas, the day was too windy, and therefore unsafe to take rides today! Dang. So we went instead to this beautiful little gazebo in the middle of the village - a good second option. Except it, too, was blocked off for safety reasons! Michael took my hand and led me around the gazebo, saying that we would find obstacles in our lives, and we would find ways to overcome them together. Then he kissed me, then got on one knee and held out the ring and said, "Johanna Kathryn Johnson, will you marry me?" And I giggled and jumped up and down and said yes and hugged him (like you do). Then I asked him back, and he said yes. Then, because it was so windy, we flew my kite and ran around the grass like giggly children, which was a blast. On the way out of the museum, we told the lady at the ticket booth that we'd gotten engaged, and she told the ladies in the store, and one of them drove us out to the balloon and took our picture in the basket, with the balloon behind us. So we still got that in after all. :)

We're not thinking at all about dates just yet. Michael just wanted to make this promise to me, to show me that he is in this thing with me, by my side, right now and for the long haul. Yet one more blessing for me to count each and every day... and for the rest of my life.

Sermon: "Be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger" (Sept. 2, 2012)

Pentecost 14B

Sept. 2, 2012

James 1:17-27

Mark 7:1–8, 14–15, 21–23

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

         In the 1997 film As Good As it Gets, Jack Nicholson plays the role of Marvin, an obsessive-compulsive author of romance novels. He lives alone, but spends his days writing about love and romance, avoiding cracks on the sidewalk, and avoiding touching anyone. He also spends a fair amount of his time insulting everyone he comes in contact with – his gay neighbor, the Jewish patrons of his favorite restaurant, especially those who dare to sit at his favorite table. He also proves to be the world’s worst listener – unless a conversation is directly concerning him or his needs, he checks out.

The other thing that occupies his time each day is completing his hand-washing ritual. His medicine chest is full of row upon row of bars of antiseptic soap, individually wrapped in cellophane, never before touched by human hands. During his daily hand washing ritual, he goes through several bars of soap. He swipes each bar only once across his palms before discarding it and unwrapping another, in between rinsing his hands in water so hot it nearly raises blisters.

Hateful words that wound others, but the cleanest hands on this side of the Mississippi. It brings new meaning to Jesus’ words to the Pharisees this morning regarding their own hand-washing ritual: that it is “not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth that defiles.” I’ve been reflecting on this all week, and wondering how true it is. Some things that go into a person’s mouth legitimately defile, right? Drugs? Too much alcohol? Too much fatty food? Surely we can place blame on those external things that enter our bodies. And while we’re at it, there are actually a lot of external things that affect us, that defile us and our behavior. Right?

And it’s not just physical things that we can point to. We humans, graced with 8 fingers and two opposable thumbs, are quite adept at using those fingers to point outward. I know that the first thing I want to do when I get angry is point my finger at the thing that made me angry. “He said that! She did this! My anger is justified, because that person did something to harm me! Surely I am not the one at fault here. Surely the blame lies elsewhere!”

I hope by now you are squirming in your seat, realizing that there is something wrong with this. Looking at our texts today, there are at least two things wrong with this. The first one comes from James. “You must understand this, my beloved,” he writes. “Let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God's righteousness.” When we are busy pointing our fingers elsewhere – blaming other people, our circumstances, or even our troubled childhood – it is difficult to listen. But James tells us to be quick to listen – let that be the first thing you do! Be slow to speak. Don’t say the first thing that comes into your head, even if you believe it to be true. And be slow to anger. And here’s the kicker: “for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness.” When someone does something that angers us, we’re probably not prepared right away to say even something that is true in a way that produces God’s righteousness, because we have not yet taken the time to listen. And as Jesus points out, it is what comes out of our mouths that defiles us.

And that brings us to the second point: when we are finger-pointing at everyone and everything else, we miss the point that Jesus makes, that it is less about the external things, the things that go in, the things that affect us from the outside, and more about our own hearts. When we are slow to listen and quick to anger, we have not taken the time to take inventory of what is really going on in our hearts. James warns us that those who hear the word but do not do it “are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like.” And we’re certainly guilty of that sometimes, too, aren’t we! We know in our heads how important it is to check out what logs we might have in our own eyes before we point out other people’s specks. But when we look in the mirror, and we don’t like what we see, how tempting it is to just turn away, to ignore it, and to go back to finger-pointing. We look in that mirror and realize, “I was in the wrong about that,” or, “That is something in my heart that I need to deal with,” but then we think, “Oh that’s too hard, or too painful.” And admitting that vulnerability is perhaps the hardest thing of all.

So how do we do it? How do we be the Christians James challenges us to be, who not only hear the word but also do it, and who are willing to look in the mirror and not forget what we see? How do we be the Christians Jesus describes, whose hearts are pure and righteous enough that what comes out of our mouths does not defile, but rather builds up the body of Christ?

         Well, it’s hard. And it takes some intention. And it takes a lot of prayer. It starts with, as James says, listening. Listen to the other side of the story. If your anger is with another person, try to put yourself in that person’s shoes, and really try to understand him or her. I don’t mean make guesses or assumptions, and certainly not accusations; I mean really try to imagine where they might be coming from, why they might be behaving the way they are. Try to feel what they are feeling. When we feel what the other person feels, and make that effort to understand them, it becomes very difficult for us to have anything but love and compassion for them.

         But don’t stop there. Do the same thing for yourself. We do that, examine our hearts, every Sunday as a part of our confession, but I mean spend more than 30 seconds on it. Ask yourself, why do I feel the way I do? What is going on in my heart, my defiled heart, that has made me say or want to say something unchristian, or to act in a way that does not produce God’s righteousness? Reflect also on what does our anger produce in the end. Does it defile? Whom or what does it defile? Ask God in prayer what alternative to anger would produce God’s righteousness in any particular situation.

         This is not easy. And I know some anger is more complicated than others, and it’s not always so simple as all this. But it is worth the effort, and more often than not, that love and compassion can be found in some way or another, and we can truly find a way to forgive others, as God has promised to forgive us each and every time we fall short.

Here’s a challenge for you, that is at least one step down this path that Jesus sets us on: this week, let’s all look for healing words. Maybe a parent saying something loving to a child, or someone saying something unexpectedly kind about someone else. And while you’re at it, try to say some yourself. When someone starts gossiping about someone else, putting less than the most positive construction on your neighbor’s actions, find something positive to say about that person. When you want to say something mean to or about someone, say a quick prayer: “God, let my words be your words.” Or as the Psalmist writes, “May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to you, O God.” If we could all make a habit of doing this small thing in our daily interactions with people, I believe that we will feel true compassion, true love. We will come closer to understanding the deep love that Christ has for us, that made him willing to come all the way to the cross to express that love.

Let us pray.

Dear God, keep us from accusing others and excusing ourselves; keep us from pointing out the faults of others while passing over our own; keep us from blaming others and ignoring our own deep need. And strengthen us to help, defend and love one another. For you love and came for all of us. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.